Chapter 24
Cora kicked a hickory limb out of her path as she led her bay sorrel to the corral. Mud oozed around her hard leather shoes. Robins warbled from the nearby hickory trees.
Wolf Heart had left their horses alone, thankfully.
And the man Ben shot was nowhere in sight.
Was he dead or wounded? Thankfully, the Comanche had taken him with them when they left, and the rain had washed away all traces, except for a red tint coloring the sparse grass around the spot where he had fallen.
How did Ben feel about the possibility of potentially having killed someone? No doubt he’d killed many during the war.
The way he’d held her last night in the foyer had set her whole body atremble.
She’d turned into a pool of warmth, incapable of speech.
She’d nestled her head against his breast and clung to the back of his undershirt, unable to let go.
They’d stood like that for immeasurable heartbeats.
Until her legs felt as if they’d give out, and reason at last reigned.
Love. How had it crept in past the wall of her heart? If she had any sense, she’d shove it right back out again.
Sandy nickered, and Cora rubbed the mare’s neck. “Morning, girl.” Horse hooves sank into the moist earth as they walked.
Cora unlatched the corral gate. An oak limb lay across the top rail of a section on the far side.
But other than a teetering post, the corral had survived the storm intact.
She’d tiptoed out of the parlor, stepping over Charlie, careful not to wake him or Ben.
She needed time to think, not be bombarded by the boy’s questions.
Plus, Ben needed to rest. His poor right eye had swollen shut, and the right side of his mouth wasn’t much better.
The way that warrior had pummeled him, Ben might very well have a cracked rib or two, as well.
He’d kissed her hair as she slipped from his arms in the foyer last night. A sweet, gentle kiss that almost buckled her knees. She’d scurried away, almost tripping over Charlie, and dropped into the sweetest sleep she could recall, dreaming of being in his arms.
My goodness, she had to get ahold of herself while she had any sense left. The best thing she could do would be to act as if nothing had happened between them. Like trying to contain the banks of a river after a hard spring rain.
Ben sipped his soup. Cora had butchered a chicken in his honor. The steaming broth soothed his unsettled stomach and fortified his battered body. Chunks of carrot, rutabaga, noodles, and chicken bobbed in his bowl.
A fresh breeze wafted in the open kitchen window, offering relief from the heat of the day and the cook fire that simmered in the hearth.
Cora swiped a thin line of sweat from her brow as she settled down in the chair across from him. “Would you like some cider?” She raised a pitcher.
“Yes, please.” He held up his porcelain cup.
She’d avoided eye contact and kept him at a pole distance all day long.
Any trace of a smile had been so muted that one might almost need a magnifying glass to detect the upturn of her lips.
Yet she’d sent Charlie to him with wet cloths, and poultices and salves for his facial wounds and the bruises along his ribs.
She’d even sliced a slab of smoked venison for him to lay across his eye.
In addition, she’d cooked a delicious meal and served it in a porcelain bowl instead of tin.
As she poured the cool tan liquid into his cup, the sweet apple scent mixed with the savory aroma of the soup. His stomach rumbled for more.
Her gaze flickered away from his as she plunged her spoon into her soup.
Did she regret their unguarded moments of comfort and cuddling in the hallway last night, or was she merely shy and embarrassed?
The woman was a myriad of palisade walls more impenetrable than oak, but she’d gifted him a step inside the gate last night. He would find his way in again.
“The soup is delicious.” He swallowed another bite. “Thank you. It’s just what I needed.”
“You’re welcome.” She nudged a strand of hair from her forehead. The silky knot at the back of her head had loosened over the course of the day. A couple ribbons of chestnut tresses framed her face. Where was the comb he’d given her?
Charlie’s spoon clunked against his bowl. “She wants to feed you well and get you strong because you’re our protector.”
Cora squirmed in her chair. “That’s not exactly what I said.”
A smile tickled the left corner of Ben’s mouth. “What did she say, Charlie?”
“Never you mind.” She narrowed her eyes at Ben, but nothing could hide the rosy pink that blossomed across her cheeks. “And Charlie, you need to finish your dinner so you can go take care of the horses.”
Charlie swallowed a bite. “And I’ll lock the stable. Ben’s going to sleep inside with us tonight, isn’t he?”
Ben tipped his spoon toward the boy. “I’m double-checking the locks on everything before I turn in. I’ll be fine in my loft tonight.”
Charlie’s countenance sank. “Please sleep in the house. I don’t want you hurt.”
Ben glanced at Cora. “I’ll just be across the yard.”
“But what if we need you here?” Charlie’s voice faltered.
Cora stirred her soup. “You’re welcome to sleep in the parlor again tonight. I’ll be in my room, and Charlie in his. I know the sofa or the floor isn’t as comfortable—”
“He can have my bed, and I’ll take the floor.” Charlie beamed.
“I’m not taking anyone’s bed.” Ben fingered the edge of the table. They were shaken from last night. He couldn’t blame them, but how in the world was he supposed to leave on a cattle drive in a few days?
“I’d be fine on the floor.” Charlie stood. “I want you to get better.”
“Sit.” Cora pointed to the boy, then turned to Ben. “It won’t hurt Charlie to sleep on the floor one more night. Your poor ribs could use a mattress beneath them.”
His living in the loft was one thing, but staying in the house was far from proper. There were probably already rumors going around town. He scrubbed his hand over his jaw.
Cora gnawed her lip, her doe eyes speaking what her tongue would not.
A man had been shot in their yard last night. It could have been one of them. They were his family to protect. “Who am I to argue with the two of you and my ribs?”
“Wise man.” She smiled.
The best medicine she’d given him all day. If only his thumping heart could take it as it was likely meant, relief to have a protector in the house, not as how can we arrange an accidental meeting in the foyer after Charlie’s asleep?
The way Cora had melted against him last night as he’d drawn her into his arms, surely, even for her, their embrace had been about more than fear and protection.
Cora stood in front of the beveled dresser mirror in her room.
Her hair was a mess. She quickly plucked out the pins and ran a brush through it.
This morning, she’d been too focused on tiptoeing out of the parlor to do it up proper.
Then, with the housework on top of her wrestling with the chicken and all of that preparation, she’d hardly taken a moment to check her appearance.
Steps on the front porch. Ben and Charlie would be in soon from locking up the stables and checking the gate.
She slipped her hand inside her apron pocket and fingered the fine teeth on the wooden comb Ben had given her yesterday.
How could it only be yesterday that he’d returned from rounding up her cattle to give to Goodnight?
The way she’d clung to him last night in the hallway…
And here she was practically insisting he spend another night in the house.
His embrace had very little to do with it.
It was just that after the attack, she didn’t feel quite safe without his presence now that darkness was falling around them.
But would he understand that, or would he read more into it?
She grimaced at her reflection in the mirror—a mirror that had traveled from Tennessee with her mother and should have been sold a year or two ago for supplies. But better to savor her mother’s memory than to put cash in her father’s hands.
Her throat tightened. No. She would not, could not define Ben by her father’s actions. Ben McKenzie had more strength of character than her father could even fathom. If only she could scrub the last few years with her father from her brain.
The front door opened.
Charlie’s voice carried down the hall. “I should start wearing moccasins. They’re quieter. I could sneak up on prey more easily. Maybe shoot me a big buck. Plus, they wouldn’t hurt my feet as much.”
Cora lowered her brush to the dresser.
Part of Ben’s reply drifted her way. “We’ll talk to your sister. You need a hide to make moccasins...”
Charlie needed to learn ranching, not raiding and fighting.
Ben was clear on that, wasn’t he? Otherwise, the boy would be asking to wear a breechclout and painting his face before she knew it.
Charlie was the only family she had left.
She had no intention of losing him to the Comanche or anyone else.
Ben had given his word to Wolf Heart that he’d raise the boy.
Exactly what did that mean for her and Ben?
Would Ben someday sleep in the bed beside her as her husband?
Her cheeks flushed. My goodness, she was getting ahead of herself.
She’d go back to clerking or take on a position at the new schoolhouse in Weatherford before she’d allow any man to marry her out of obligation.
But what if it was out of…love? There’s no other place I’d rather be. No other girl I’d rather court. Even now, Ben’s words made her legs wobble. But did he mean them? He might have whispered the same thing once upon a time to the lady awaiting him back in Philadelphia.
Cora strode into the parlor with Ben’s comb still in her pocket and her sewing basket on her arm. Best keep her hands busy and her eyes on her thread. Time and distance to think straight, that’s what she needed.